


you're never gonna catch us dancing in the dark (cause I already know your heart)

by timelxrd



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/F, Fluff, One Shot, Smut, christmas shenanigans, longfic, thasmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21850861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelxrd/pseuds/timelxrd
Summary: She’s admiring the fairy lights curled around the bushes on the front lawn when the door swings open, but the deeply familiar voice which resonates from the doorway startles her from her reverie.Standing before her, dressed in a loose red dress which just reaches mid-thigh and a pair of black tights, hair now blonde rather than its previous brown hue, is her ex-fiancee.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 43
Kudos: 133





	1. Chapter 1

“ _Shit,”_ Yaz groans, a culmination of biting winds and icy snow underfoot making her temper shorter than usual. Plus, as she finds when she circles her police vehicle, all four of her tyres have been successfully slashed. So much for a peaceful end to her last night shift for the Christmas period. 

As the sun rises behind a block of weathered flats, rusted balconies littered with fairy lights to disguise their neglected nature, Yaz calls the incident in through her radio. It’s still bitterly cold out, so she slips inside just to keep herself warm once the surroundings have been thoroughly inspected for vandals. 

“The recovery truck should be there in five, PC Khan,” her chief inspector murmurs groggily through her device, a background noise to Yaz’s exhausted sigh. 

While her vehicle had been ruefully disrespected, Yaz had been dealing with a group of rowdy teenagers as high as kites, sending them off with a warning after relieving them of pocketfuls of narcotics. The evidence bags are slipped into the glove compartment while she awaits rescue. 

There’s something a little embarrassing about a police officer perched in the passenger seat of a tow truck while their vehicle sits unused and useless at the rear. Luckily, the driver is chatty enough without being pushy, so the journey to the nearest garage doesn’t feel so long. 

Yaz hops down from the passenger side with a yawn which she muffles against the sleeve of her luminescent coat. There’s a radio playing festive tunes in the corner of the garage, and Yaz spots a mustard yellow beanie before the mechanic jogs forward with an easy smile. 

“Tyre job?” the dark-skinned, somehow familiar man quips, overalls stained with oil and wear. 

“PC Yasmin Khan,” she introduces, politely offering a hand to shake. 

He returns the gesture in kind, until — 

“Wait, Yaz? Yaz Khan? Redlands Primary?” 

Yaz eyes him in suspicion, then curiosity. “Yeah?”

“It’s Ryan — Ryan Sinclair! From Miss Maitland’s class?” Ryan quips, and all at once, his familiar face is a welcome sight. 

“Ryan, of _course._ Oh my God. Been a while, huh?” She leans against a near pillar as her vehicle is slowly maneuvred from the truck, tyres almost entirely pooled at the ground. 

“What happened here, mate?” Ryan chuckles in mild amusement, crouching to assess the damage. “I can’t believe you’re a fed. That’s well cool.” 

“Vandals, I guess,” Yaz sighs, blowing a lock of hair from her eyes before re-adjusting her hat. “And we don’t — we don’t call it that.”

Under Ryan’s teasing glare, she rolls her eyes, giving in to a small smile. “You reckon you can get her fixed up so I can get back and sign off?” 

“You working nights?” he replies, already moving to raise the wheel arches. When she nods, visibly fatigued, he offers an empathetic smile. “I’ll get it done as quick as I can. Help yourself to a coffee and a biscuit in the office if you like. I won’t tell anyone.” 

Yaz perks up at the sound of coffee, or at least _something_ to keep her awake so early in the day. She slips around the back with a grateful smile, returning some time later with half a custard cream in her mouth. The sweet snack brings back memories of another time, of a bubbly blonde and the tingling warmth of a hand in her own. 

She clears her throat to dispel her musings. 

“So, you’re a mechanic?” 

“Yeah, got my NVQ in the end,” Ryan grunts, easing a tyre free and letting it slump to the ground just shy of his boot-clad feet. “Just here as an apprentice for now, but it’s going well. Really well.” 

“That’s good,” Yaz hums around a brown paper cup, steaming, slightly bitter coffee drawing a scrunch to her nose but warming her up, at least. “How’s your nan?”

“She’s great, actually — got married again a couple of years back. Graham’s a nice bloke,” he replies, rolling another tyre over until he pauses suddenly. “Actually, we’re having a bit of a get-together, this Friday — A Christmas party with a bunch of friends. You should come along, we could catch up properly and I bet Nan would love to see you.” 

Yaz takes a slow inhale through her nose as she contemplates over the idea, working through her work commitments and — “Oh! I have an early shift on Friday and I have Saturday off. I’ll be there.”

“Sweet! That’s awesome. The party’s kicking off at seven and I’ll message you the address?” Ryan enthuses, slipping his phone from his pocket and allowing the shorter woman to store her number. “Didn’t want to be the youngest there for once, to be honest.”

With a laugh, Yaz hands the device back. “Remember when you had that massive party during the summer holidays at the end of year eleven? And Grace came back halfway through because she forgot something on the way to the airport?” 

“Aw, _man,_ she still goes on about that _now_ ,” Ryan shakes his head, their reminiscent conversation aiding his efficient working until the four by four is perfectly back together again.

“See you on Friday, Ryan,” Yaz quips as she slips inside the patrol car, allowing Ryan to conduct one last safety check before she starts up the engine and moves into reverse. 

“Laters, mate,” Ryan offers with a breezy smile, waving with an oiled rag as she pulls away. 

When Yaz falls into bed an hour or so later, the misfortune of this morning’s events doesn’t weigh so heavily on her thoughts. 

* * *

“Hey, buddy,” the paediatric department’s top doctor, Joni Smith, slips past the thin curtain to meet the gaze of a teary-eyed youngster, clutching his swollen wrist. “Oh, dear, what’s happened here?”

“I was —” the boy sniffles, accepting the blonde’s offer of a wad of tissues. “I was on my bike, and I was going fast, _really_ fast —” he pauses to giggle when Joni’s eyes widen and she blinks in surprise — he was going really fast! “and — and I fell.”

“No way,” Joni remarks, crouching at his bedside and intrigued to find out more. “How fast were you going? Do you reckon you beat the speed of light? I bet you could.” 

“No, silly,” the boy giggles, tears pausing in their descent and thoughts successfully diverted for the time being. “Not that fast.”

“I don’t know, buddy, I bet you were _so_ fast. What’s your name?” Joni probes gently, favouring getting to know the youngster before she examines his injury. 

“Bobby,” he replies, wiping his uninjured hand over his dampened cheek and tilting his head. “What’s yours?”

“Great name, Bobby. Rhymes with mine, actually. I’m Joni, and it’s a pleasure to meet a future Olympic cyclist,” the blonde grins, wide and warm. “Now — this arm of yours; what kind of pain is it in?” When the brunette boy furrows his brows in question, twisting his lips, she continues. “Is it a sort of achy feeling, like a poorly stomach, or does it sting?”

“Achy,” he replies, worrying his bottom lip when Joni moves to reach out. She hovers just shy of the suspected broken limb, meeting his gaze with a tender smile. “Is it okay if I take a quick look, Bobby? I promise I’ll try and make it as quick as possible.”

His redhead mother reaches for Bobby’s free hand, entwining their fingers with an encouraging expression. Her Scottish accent is strong. “Let her examine it, Bobby, she knows what she’s doing.” 

The youngster squirms slightly the closer she moves, but with all the patience in the world, Joni eases off. “It’s okay, buddy. Tell you what — would you like me to tell you a funny story while I take a look?” 

“I like stories,” Bobby nods, tension easing in a slow movement from his little shoulders. 

“That’s brilliant. Stories are brilliant, Bobby,” the blonde murmurs in earnest, tentative when she moves back in to accept the arm the child offers. “So, I have a dog, called Stormy, and he locked me out of my own house this morning.” 

“He locked you out?” the boy repeats, amusement twitching the corners of his lips upwards while Joni starts ever so gently brushing her fingers over the swollen flesh. His sharp intake of breath leads her to the assumption it is, indeed, broken, but she continues her assessment anyway, moving further up his arm. 

“Yeah, the cheeky thing! I closed the door, locked up, had my hand near the letterbox, and he grabbed my keys right through it,” she murmurs with a faux-frown, brows pinched and nose scrunched dramatically. “I had to go next door to fetch a spare pair from my neighbour, and when I went inside, he was just sat there with them dangling from his mouth.” 

The boy is in fits of laughter when she meets his gaze again, her work finished. 

“Did he give them back?” he quips with a brimming smile, still giggling. 

“Eventually, yeah. I had to bribe him with an unhealthy amount of biscuits,” Joni grins, stepping back to note the assessment down on her patient’s notes. “Right, I’ll book you in for an X-ray, but I’m ninety per cent sure you’ve broken your scaphoid, buddy, the bone in your wrist which helps you to high five people.”

The boy nods in understanding, slipping his injured arm back into his lap. 

“I think you’ve been really brave, Bobby. I think you deserve a Christmas treat.”

The staffroom is minus a festive-themed cupcake when Bobby and his gracious mother are sent to the x-ray room along the hall. 

Joni is busying herself with a steaming cup of coffee and a generous helping of custard creams during her break when Grace ambles in, a handful of envelopes in hand. 

“Someone’s popular,” the older woman teases on her way over, settling in the couch opposite to hand them over. 

“But I don’t have anyone to — oh.” Joni’s features soften with the first envelope opened, and Grace thinks she looks like she might cry. “They’re from patients.”

“You seem surprised,” Grace notes, her tone blooming with its usual warmth. “You’re one of our best doctor’s, Joni. You’re _amazing_ with the kids. You’ve got to be crazy not to acknowledge that.”

The blonde wilts under her gaze, green eyes tracing the scribbled, wavy calligraphy of a five year old she’d treated only a few days prior. “I didn’t think — I don’t know. Christmas isn’t always the best time of year for me,” she answers in earnest, her voice small. She opens the next envelope with a teary laugh, another Christmas card detailed with inscriptions by a youngster previously in her care. 

“That woman must’ve been a real heartbreaker,” Grace states, taking in the way Joni fiddles with the ring clinging to the chain around her neck while she surveys the cards. 

She freezes under Grace’s assumption. Perhaps she’s not as subtle as she thought. “That obvious, huh?”

“Honestly, Joni. You’ve been pining away like a child for their Christmas presents ever since you joined us,” Grace replies with a teasing lilt to her tone, stealing a custard cream from Joni’s gathering of snacks and laughing at the faux-huff she earns. 

“I was sort of hoping I’d bump into her by now,” Joni admits, taking another sip from her coffee. 

“Maybe she moved away?” Grace probes, happy to finally learn something about the usually reticent doctor. In the three months they’ve worked together, their friendship has blossomed, but she has to admit she still doesn’t know too much about her. 

“No, I don’t think so. It’s — it’s the main reason we didn’t work out. I wanted to go away and do more research elsewhere, but she wanted to stay and settle.” Joni sits back, heaving a sigh. “Maybe the universe isn’t in my favour.”

“Don’t give up — you never know,” Grace advises, popping her brows. She nudges Joni’s shoulder just to get a laugh from her. “I mean, look at me and Graham; we definitely didn’t plan that.” 

“I don’t think there’s anyone else out there for me, so I hope you’re right,” Joni divulges, lifting herself up so she can pin the cards up on the notice board along with the rest of her growing collection. 

“We’re having a party on Friday, by the way,” Grace stands, rounding to her side to glance through the newest additions with a doting smile. “You’re invited, and I already know your rota, so there’s no escaping this time.”

“You sneaky minx,” Joni chides playfully, slipping her stethoscope back around her neck and toying with each end. “I’ll be there, but only if I can dip into that wine selection of yours.”

“It’s a deal.”

* * *

Friday rolls around slowly but provides the perfect relief from a busy week of drunken parties of school teachers and workers alike. Yaz has a work party on the same night, but she can predict the same fate upon her colleagues and she’d much rather not be the only sober one present. 

She’s debating what to wear when her mother calls with a weekly rant about her sister’s lazy disillusion with university and _actually_ getting out of bed before two in the afternoon. So, when she does turn up, clad in a leopard print blouse, leather jacket and skinny black jeans, she’s twenty minutes late. There’s a bottle of wine tucked into the bag at her side which she hopes might be equivalent to an apology. The brand was familiar enough to leave her a little bemused when she bought it earlier in the day and she still can’t quite shake the feeling of something standing in plain sight. 

She raps her knuckles against the door a little heavier than usual, taking heed of the festive music thrumming from inside — one thing’s for sure, Ryan and his family definitely know how to throw a party. 

She’s admiring the fairy lights curled around the bushes on the front lawn when the door swings open, but the deeply familiar voice which resonates from the doorway startles her from her reverie. 

“Hiya! I’m — oh.”

Yaz parts her lips, dry from the cold, but her words pause in the journey to her tongue and end up caught in her throat along with all the oxygen in her system. 

Standing before her, dressed in a loose red dress which just reaches mid-thigh and a pair of black tights, hair now blonde rather than it’s previous brown hue, is her ex-fiancee. 

“Hi,” Yaz manages to whisper, training her features away from her new hairstyle and fighting for purchase over the oxygen in her lungs, not to mention the sudden heat in the pit of her stomach. 

When she meets Joni’s gaze, it heightens tenfold to find the same steely, intense expression on her face, her cheeks a beautiful pink hue. “Hi.”

“How are —”

“How —”

Joni’s the first to stifle a flustered giggle against her palm, and she stands aside when she notices Yaz shivering and falsely assumes it’s because of the chilly breeze. “Come on in, you must be cold.” 

Yaz shrugs her jacket off in the foyer, taking a sharp inhale when Joni reaches out to tuck the garment into the closet for her. Her fingers brush the back of her hand in the process, and even the brief contact has Yaz frazzled and a little dizzy. 

“How are you?” Yaz finally manages just before they join the others, the empty corridor the only solace she can find. 

“Not bad, actually. I — uh, I moved back… three months ago now, I think,” Joni replies, chest aching. She can’t quite believe the images her eyes are sending to her brain, but she also can’t bring herself to look away from the woman she used to call her own. “Missed home.”

But Yaz knows she doesn’t have family here, and when she levels their gazes again, she’s momentarily taken aback by the pointed stare there. “Do you mean —” 

“Yaz!” Ryan calls seconds before he bursts into the corridor to gather her in a hug, jostling the other woman out of the little bubble she’d created around the two women and reminding her there’s a whole party to encounter before she can properly sit down and talk to her. 

“Hi, mate, are you drunk already? It’s — it’s, like, _six o’clock,”_ Yaz chides playfully, allowing herself to be dragged through to the living room and the heart of the gathering. She sends Joni an apologetic smile on the way, delighting in the way she chuckles in response. 

“And it’s Christmas! You can get out of police mode now, Yaz,” Ryan quips back, smirking as he leads her through to the kitchen where Grace and Graham are mingling with another middle-aged couple. “Oi, Nan, look who it is!”

“Yasmin Khan? From Redlands Primary?” Grace enthuses, her excellent memory encouraging a surprised smile from Yaz’s lips. 

“Hiya, Grace,” Yaz announces warmly, sinking into the hug Grace grants her. She looks exactly the same as she remembers. Perhaps some people just don’t age. 

“It’s a small world, isn’t it, love?” Grace laughs as she pulls back, accepting the bag Yaz offers with a raise of her brows. She peaks into the bag and instantly turns to regard Joni, who has appeared as if by magic. “Isn’t this your favourite wine, Joni?”

Oh _. That’s_ why it was familiar. Yaz’s cheeks burn with the revelation and she wilts under the flushed smirk Joni sends her way. 

“How convenient,” Joni murmurs in a tone which should be illegal, pouring out a glass with barely any hesitation. 

Grace and Ryan meet eyes with a look of confusion which soon slips into understanding on Grace’s behalf. “Do you two know each other?” 

Instead of answering, Yaz reaches for Ryan’s sleeve, giving a faint tug. “Didn’t you wanna catch up?” 

“Alright, alright,” Ryan laughs, noting the hidden panic in both women’s eyes as he pads back into the living room. 

Yaz can feel eyes on her throughout her conversation with Ryan, each pause granting her a couple more glances in Joni’s direction. 

“And then he said — Yaz?” Ryan halts mid-sentence when he finds his old friend’s gaze has drifted to the other side of the room, where his nan’s blonde colleague is chattering away to Graham. “Dude, you aren’t even _trying_ to be subtle at this point.”

Yaz startles, turning back with warm cheeks and a distracted smile. While she is looking his way, Ryan notices the blonde taking her chance to size Yaz up like dinner. “Huh?” 

“Have you two —” Ryan wriggles his eyebrows in suggestion, bringing his beer back up to his lips for a swig. “Because you can’t stop looking at each other. It’s kinda gross.”

Heaving a sigh, Yaz reaches for Ryan’s wrist, dragging him from the room. “Not here.”

“Whoa, whoa, mate, slow down,” he chuckles, slipping the sliding doors open to the garden and stepping outside clumsily after her. “Was I right?”

“Do you mind —?” Yaz nods to the bottle in his hands, refusing to let him answer before she takes a lengthy sip and hands it back. 

“Thought you didn’t drink?” Ryan questions in surprise, tilting his head when Yaz starts pacing slightly. “Hey, mate, calm down, it’s chill.”

“Liquid courage,” Yaz states by way of response, coming to a stop before she turns the damp grass at her feet into a marsh. She takes a quick inhale, breathing back out through her nose. “Joni — she’s — she’s my ex. We were engaged.”

“Ah.” Ryan grimaces, then, after another sip of beer, breathes a hearty laugh. “Oh, _dude._ This is hilarious.”

“What?” Yaz guffaws, throwing him a glare. “What do you mean?”

“Well — basically,” Ryan starts, reigning in his amusement. “You both _clearly_ still like each other, if the eye-sex is anything to go by.” He continues on despite the choking sound suddenly coming from his friend, shrugging. “So it’s simple; just talk to her, figure out what’s going on, and if all goes well, sleep with her. If she’s not interested, which I _highly_ doubt, you find a rebound.”

“Ryan!” Yaz cries, curling a hand through her hair. She folds her arms for warmth in the cool air of a mid-December evening, rocking on her toes. “It’s not that easy.”

Ryan’s attention diverts momentarily, but long enough to make Yaz uneasy. “Maybe, but she’s on her way over now, so…”

“Oh my _god,”_ Yaz groans, wishing the ground would open up at her feet and swallow her up. _Any minute now would be lovely._

Ryan escapes back inside the second Joni appears in the doorway, a glass of wine in hand. 

Yaz could murder him. 

“Bit busy in there, huh?” Joni hums, stepping out onto the grass in her weathered boots. There’s a sturdy garden table just outside which she hops onto, slim legs swinging. 

“Yeah, something like that,” Yaz murmurs, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

“I never got to ask how you were doing.” Joni’s tone is warm and a little shy, and Yaz can’t help her eyes seeking out glistening green like coming home. Their matching smiles are immediate and familiar. 

“I’m great, really great,” Yaz only half-lies, rocking on the toes of her boots. “I finished my training. I’m on my second year of probation now.” She toys with the patterned metal curling along the top of the garden chair at Joni’s side, brushing her fingertips over the dewy surface. If her gaze drops from Joni’s eyes, it’s only to breeze over her rouge-painted lips. Who knew lipstick could be so distracting?

“Is it everything you wanted?” Joni asks quietly, emboldened by the wine cradled in her palms. 

“For a job, yes.” Yaz captures her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing anxiously at the supple flesh. Joni follows the movement with a heavy swallow. The implication is there, behind her words, and both women are in a mutual understanding now. Yaz takes her chance before she can hesitate. “What made you come back, Joni?”

“A job came up with the paediatric department here and I just — I just took it. I figured I missed it here more than I thought,” Joni murmurs, swilling her wine if only to hide the way her hands tremble. 

“Makes it sound like you’re staying,” Yaz says wistfully, tapping her fingertips along the table where Joni remains perched. She doesn’t remember moving closer, but then she doesn’t remember a time she didn’t gravitate towards Joni like a moth to a flame. Their breakup was amicable, but if she’s here, and she’s staying, she really can’t think of a more perfect end to her year than closing the distance and taking a leap of faith. “Are you? I mean — are you staying?”

“Think so, yeah,” Joni tips her head up, breaths coming a little quicker with Yaz’s increasing proximity. She smells the same — like coconut and honey and something more intoxicating than the drink she sets aside when Yaz stops just before her. Her tight-clad knees brush against the tops of Yaz’s thighs and she’s the first to reach out, lifting a hand to brush the backs of her fingers against Yaz’s jaw. 

“Are you happy, Joni?” Yaz breathes, a victim to her touch. She leans into her bold hand, lashes fluttering, and suddenly Joni is all she can feel and see. “Without me?”

Her words are emboldened and Joni’s touch falters, then reaffirms itself, tipping her chin up while her thumb grazes her bottom lip. “What do you think brought me back here?”

It’s enough confirmation to leave Yaz reeling, but not enough to give her the confidence to finally close the rest of the distance between them. 

Joni nudges forward, noses brushing, eyes closing. She makes a whiny, keening sort of noise at the back of her throat Yaz would _love_ to revisit later on. “Please — come on, baby, I’ve missed you.” 

She tastes like wine and something sweet when Yaz finally grants her a kiss, and, already trembling from her final breathy admission, she sighs out a soft noise when Joni returns the kiss in kind. 

It’s familiar but also so, so _new_ and Joni doesn’t think she’s been kissed so sweetly in all her life. Her hand slips around to the back of Yaz’s neck, greedily drawing her in for more, for a little more purchase, for a firmness there the flames between her legs all but _beg_ for. 

Maneuvring between knees which part for her, Yaz curls an arm around the blonde’s waist to draw them closer, breathing a gasp when Joni laps her tongue into her mouth in response. 

Joni fists a hand into Yaz’s blouse just as the patio doors slide open and Ryan’s faint squawk makes them jump apart with twin gasps. 

“The food’s out, guys,” Ryan snorts, half-drunk and desperately in need of something to absorb all the alcohol in his system. “If you’re still hungry.”

“I’m going to murder him,” Yaz groans, slipping a hand through her hair and straightening out her blouse. Joni simply laughs, breezy and hearty and _beautiful_ and who can blame Yaz when she leans in to capture her lips in another chaste kiss?

“C’mon, I can’t feel my fingers,” Joni chortles, slipping from the table with a shiver and reaching for her hand to drag her back into the warmth and resounding chaos occurring inside. 

As it turns out, Grace and Ryan can throw one hell of a party. Nevertheless, somehow there’s _always_ an interruption when Yaz and Joni try to share a moment and there’s _always_ someone nestled between them when they sit down somewhere. Most of the time it’s an overzealous, tipsy Ryan telling a story about primary school to anyone in the nearest vicinity. 

Whatever Gods were in their favour earlier seem to have packed in and left for the night. 

Joni’s in amidst the party-goers and re-filling her wine glass when a redhead approaches whom she’s _sure_ she’s met before. Her legs are the longest she’s ever seen. “Hello?”

“I’m Amy; Amy Pond, a friend of Ryan’s. You treated my son, Bobby, a few days ago for a broken wrist?” Her Scottish accent is enough of a reminder to assuage the furrow to Joni’s brow. 

“Oh! Hiya,” Joni lifts a hand, smiling warmly when Amy offers a gentle shake. “How’s he doing?” 

Within earshot, Yaz can’t help the dopey grin suddenly gracing her lips. 

“He’s back to normal already, apart from forgetting it’s broken and using the cast as a weapon instead,” Amy laughs, taking a sip from her wine. “He’s also told all his school friends that he can cycle at the speed of light.” 

Joni’s cheeks pinken and she restrains a scoff. “Oh, no. I’ve created an egomaniac.” 

As it also turns out, Joni is absolutely _awful_ at karaoke, but when Yaz regretfully joins in halfway through a rendition of _Santa Baby_ , she manages to save her from being the absolute laughing stock of the evening. 

Ryan’s alcohol-fuelled version of _White Christmas_ is recorded and saved to Yaz’s phone for future blackmail, much to Grace and Graham’s combined amusement. 

“C’mere,” Yaz hears Joni whisper into the curve of her ear before a firm hand slips into her own and the pair back out of the living room as smoothly as possible. They’re giggling like teenagers at a school disco when they slip upstairs and into the first bathroom they find, wherein Yaz barely makes it past the door before she’s pressed against its surface with a satisfying _thunk_. 

“Really? A bathroom at a house party?” Yaz laughs, arms encircling Joni’s neck when she leans in. “How old are we?”

“Reminds me of uni,” Joni drawls, leaning in to nudge her nose along her jaw in a lazy journey towards her lips. “I still can’t believe we got away with doing it in your housemate’s be—” 

Yaz cuts her off with a kiss to save the second-hand embarrassment from ruining the moment, sweeping a hand into her blonde locks and fighting against Joni’s resultant giggling. 

She nips her bottom lip in warning and Joni’s amusement soon canters off into a low noise which echoes in the spacious family bathroom. Yaz takes the opportunity to flip their positions, pressing Joni back against the door and ducking her head to press her lips to her neck with a hum. “Keep quiet.”

“Bossy,” Joni chides, hooking her fingers through Yaz’s belt loops to draw her closer while her ex-fiancee maps her out beneath her lips with expert precision. 

Smugly, she recounts all of Joni’s weakest spots, paying special attention to the dusting of freckles below Joni’s ear just to hear the moan she tries her hardest to stifle. “Mmn— fuck, _Yaz.”_

“Quiet,” Yaz repeats, breathing a gasp against porcelain skin when Joni hitches a thigh over her hip to draw her closer. 

“ _Quiet,_ Yaz,” Joni echoes smugly, tipping her head back to revel in the kisses she grants her. She slips a hand down to her hip at the same time as Yaz smooths a warm palm along her thigh, her dress bunching with each millimetre she persues. “ _God.”_

“I need you,” Yaz sighs against her pulse point, her gasp fervent and breathy when Joni drags her back in for a heated kiss by way of replying. The blonde untucks Yaz’s blouse from her jeans in one fluid motion, unbuttoning the material from the bottom before she gives up and simply slips a hand beneath to span her firm stomach. 

“You and — ah — you and me both, baby,” Joni whines into her collar, hips jumping when Yaz rucks her dress up enough to slip her hand over backside for purchase. 

“S’there anyone in there?” Ryan’s slurring voice suddenly echoes from the other side of the door, and Yaz has to hold herself back from groaning into Joni’s shoulder at the fourth intrusion of the evening so far. 

“Just a minute!” Joni calls, reaching out to button Yaz’s blouse back up regretfully and straighten out her dress again. 

When she opens the door and both women step out, Ryan looks a little green but his smirk is conspiratory. “Both of you were in there at the same t—” he pauses, then, eyes wide when he takes in the lipstick stains gracing Yaz’s neck and jaw and her untucked blouse. “I’m disinfecting this whole room tomorrow.” He lurches forward, stumbling into the room to cradle the toilet lid in his arms. “Right after I get this out of my system.”

* * *

It’s gone midnight by the time Yaz makes her fatigued excuses to leave, sweeping Grace into a hug and sending the crestfallen, still slightly green Ryan a teasing smirk. “Take care of yourselves, okay? It was so good to see you, Grace.”

“No problem at all, love. Do you need to phone a cab or —” 

“I’m walking her home,” Joni reappears at Yaz’s side with the other woman’s leather jacket, which Yaz accepts with a blush. “It’s en route to my place anyway.”

Grace narrows her eyes at the interaction until she catches sight of Joni’s half-hidden necklace and suddenly it clicks. “Wait — was it Yaz? It was Yaz, wasn’t it?”

“Sorry?” Yaz quips, glancing between the taller woman and the blonde at her side in question. “What was I?”

“Yes,” Joni replies quietly, heat smothering her cheeks without her permission. 

“Oh, love. And they say Christmas miracles don’t exist,” Grace muses, features blooming with a warm smile which coaxes infectious grins in return. “See you around, ladies, and get home safe, alright?”

“Promise,” Joni grins, slipping a hand through Yaz’s if only to keep her from asking any more questions. “See you at work, Grace!”

“So,” Yaz hums on the front porch, curling her jacket tighter around herself. “What did Grace mean?”

Joni sighs, rolling her eyes playfully. “Not going to let it go, huh?”

“You know me well enough by now,” Yaz hums, accepting Joni’s arm through hers as they head down the drive and onto the street. “‘Course I’m not going to.”

“She noticed this,” Joni gestures to the necklace tucked behind her collar, drawing it out. Clinging to the chain is her old engagement ring from six years previous. “ — in work a few days ago. She asked about it so I told her — because I didn’t think I’d see you again.” 

“Neither did I,” Yaz admits, sticking closer when the wind picks up. The sight of the ring leaves her breathless, encouraging blissful memories to the forefront of her mind. Yaz had proposed to her at the cafe on campus where they’d first collided with each other in a mess of limbs and coffee. “Funny how the world works, hm?”

“Seems like fate, if you ask me,” Joni muffles into the scarf curled around her neck where she nestles to warm her pink nose. Perhaps a thin dress and a simple long grey coat wasn’t the wisest outfit choice for a cloudless night in December after all.

She does look pretty cute, though, Yaz would argue. 

“Maybe it is,” Yaz laughs, water vapour clinging to her warm breaths and leaving them visible in the evening air. “You said your place was this way too?”

“Yeah, two blocks away,” Joni nods, grateful for the way Yaz sticks close to her side. “Just Stormy and I, but he’s with a friend for tonight.”

“Stormy?” Yaz repeats, a hint of anxiety in her tone. She hadn’t had a child while she was away, had she? Surely she’d have mentioned something — although they haven’t communicated much through words this evening, she has to admit. 

“He’s a three-year-old Golden Retriever, Yaz, nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t — I wasn’t worried,” Yaz notes, but under the look Joni sends her way, she laughs. 

“His full name is Stormageddon,” Joni adds, narrowly dodging an iced-covered puddle. “And he’s a massive pain in the arse.”

“You —” Yaz can’t help the laughter bubbling from her throat coming to the surface in a flurry. “You named your dog _Stormageddon_?”

“Yeah?” Joni quips, forehead creasing in indignation, her cheeks pink with faint embarrassment. She continues on proudly nonetheless. “I speak dog. He asked me to.”

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Yaz concludes with a warm, smitten smile and a fond shake of her head which leaves Joni with butterflies in her stomach.

“That’s not a bad thing, I hope?” Joni implores, her tone hopeful. 

Yaz’s hand slips from the crook of her elbow, circling her forearm before she weaves her fingers through Joni’s. “Not at all.”

They reach Yaz’s flat sooner than either of them realise, and she lingers by the entrance with a small, faux-innocent smile oh so familiar to Joni. “Do you want to — I mean, would you like to come u—” 

“God, yes,” the blonde replies honestly, giving in to the niggling flames in the pit of her stomach after an evening spent stoking them to life. She fidgets on the spot, then, meeting Yaz’s gaze with a slow smile. “If I’m not intruding?”

“C’mere,” Yaz hums, arms encircling Joni’s neck to aid the kiss she presses against her lips a second later. She feels Joni’s hands drop to her hips, reeling her in like Earth to the sun. She’s burning up in minutes. 

Joni kisses her like it’s the last time she’ll experience such a glorious sensation, drawing her close enough to press flush against her and then some. 

Yaz pulls away with trembling knees and a constant feed of jumbled words to her brain, all at once joining in to chant the other woman’s name. 

“Still got it,” Joni laughs, taking in Yaz’s frazzled features and surprising her with a tender kiss to the corner of her lips. “Come on, it’s freezing out here and I know one way sure to warm you up.”

The gravelly tone to her voice sets Yaz alight. She slips through the main door and leads the way up to her flat, fingers interweaved with Joni’s. The lift journey proves too tempting, and the late time of night means the enclosed metal unit is empty for hands to explore and lips to meet their counterparts once more. 

They’re giggling and handsy and it feels like there’s been no time at all between their last meeting when Yaz wriggles the key in the lock and nudges her ex-fiancee inside. “Would you like a cup of tea? A biscuit, maybe?” 

“ _Seriously_?” Joni snorts, kicking her heels off and immediately reducing the height difference between them. 

She’s still a good inch taller, though, so Yaz huffs as she leans up to brush their noses. “It was worth it to see the look on your face.”

“You won’t be this smug soon enough,” Joni purrs, leaning in to capture her full lips and allow the other woman to back her towards the room in the corridor allocated to a horizontal surface and plush cushions. 

“Got plans for me, then?” Yaz laughs against her lips, shrugging her leather jacket off once Joni has successfully pushed it from her shoulders. 

She pulls back only to discard her own coat, setting it aside to chase the younger woman onto the bed she’s fallen into. “Might do, yeah,” she hums, slipping a hand from ankle to shin, then along Yaz’s thigh. “But a magician never reveals their secrets.”

“You couldn’t be a magician to save your life, Joni,” Yaz teases, the words coming out a touch breathy when Joni’s lips find her neck. “Remember the last time you performed magic? And you thought you could walk on water in the university fountain?”

Joni’s kisses pause so she can stifle her laughter against her skin, settling comfortably in her lap. “Listen — I was _very_ drunk, and you can’t blame me for trying to impress you.”

“Aw,” Yaz drawls in a patronising tone, earning a glare from the blonde currently unbuttoning her blouse with deft fingers. “Better luck this time, I guess.”

“Sounds like a challenge I’m willing to accept,” Joni croons, tossing the material aside and letting herself sit back to take in the sight anew. When she said she’d joined the police force, she’d been expecting her old flame to be well-kept, but the slightly defined skin of her stomach and abdomen steals all the air from her lungs in one languid motion. “Christ, Yaz.”

Yaz simply wriggles her hips, popping her brow as she glances pointedly at the waistband of her black jeans as if to say _get a move on_. 

By the time the other woman is bare before except for her underwear, Joni’s pupils have doubled in size and darkened tenfold. She’s breathless before she’s even got to her prize yet. 

“You just gonna sit there and stare, Joni?” Yaz purrs, a hint of insecurity in her voice. She reaches up, thumb brushing her jaw, then up to her bottom lip, allowing Joni to bite down on the intrusion with a soft gasp. “Or are you gonna prove to me you still know me better than anyone else?” 

Instead of using words, Joni simply peels her bra away and ducks her head to lave attention over a dusky nipple, reeling from each breathy moan she coaxes from her form. Yaz arches into her touch in seconds, curling a hand through her hair while the other busies itself with the zipper of her dress. 

It takes a bit of wriggling and another flurry of laughter before the dress is carelessly tossed aside and Joni all but shreds her tights off. She figures she can borrow a pair when she leaves. 

“Off,” Yaz sighs, fingertips following the band of her bra while Joni makes her mark against her heaving chest. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Joni purrs, reaching back to unclip and discard the garment. When she leans back in, the press of bare chests against each other coaxes them to moan in unison. “God, I’ve missed you.” 

Yaz’s head falls back with a whimper when she feels Joni’s deft fingers ghost along her stomach to the heat between her legs, where she maps her out through her underwear. “Please,” she pants, curling her hands through Joni’s hair to drag her into a desperate kiss. “I can’t wait any longer.” 

When clever fingers duck beneath her underwear to finally trace through familiar flesh, Joni breathes a groan into Yaz’s mouth. “Fuck. You’re _so wet.”_

Yaz trembles beneath her, thighs parting to invite further exploration. She has to break the kiss when she eventually ends up simply panting into the other woman’s mouth, rolling her hips in pointed encouragement. “More. I need you inside, _please._ ”

Obliging, Joni sinks a finger past her entrance with a sigh, ducking her head at the same time to lather her chest in attention. She watches as Yaz’s features soften with pleasure, curling her finger to brush against her walls when she starts thrusting slowly. Grazing her teeth over an erect bud, she smirks against her dark skin. “Nothing compares to this. _Nobody_ compares _.”_

Yaz can’t help the surge of possessiveness which engulfs her upon hearing those words, giving a faint tug at Joni’s hair to encourage her to continue those teasing bites and sucks. “That’s right, baby. You’re so right.” 

Joni works her up in no time at all, allowing Yaz to sink her teeth into her shoulder when she adds another finger, then one more, building her up and up in ways she knows she loves. “God, you’re — you still drive me crazy,” she sighs, hair mussed from Yaz’s firm grip. “Are you close, Yaz?” 

“So close,” Yaz cries, soothing the mark she’s made against her shoulder with her tongue and a series of panting breaths. “Oh my God, you’re gonna make me —” 

Joni lifts her gaze to take in her features when she crests, memorising the flutter of her lashes and the wavering parting of her lips as she comes with a wordless cry. 

The second Yaz comes around, she weakly reaches for the blonde only to find her settled between her legs with a cheeky smirk. Sinking two fingers back inside her, she leans in to trace her tongue over her still pulsing clit, her underwear seemingly discarded somewhere in the room. 

“ _Fuck_ , are you trying to kill me?” Yaz gasps, already close enough to fall into a blissful release once more. She holds off, though, delighting in Joni’s talented tongue and fingers while she throws an arm over her face to muffle her moans. 

“You’re so tense,” Joni purrs, her free hand settled over Yaz’s abdomen while she continues teasing her clit. When Yaz begins arching into her, breaths quickening, moans flowing freely from her lips as she all but grinds against her lips, Joni laughs wickedly against her. “Don’t come yet.” 

“What — but—” Yaz mumbles, balancing on the precipice when Joni pulls back to hook her thighs over her shoulders and pant hot breaths against her core. 

“Now you can,” she murmurs in a sinfully low tone, letting Yaz buck her hips into empty space for a few minutes longer before a hand in her hair forces her back against her. With one more teasing laugh, she gets back to work, replacing her fingers with her tongue to grant herself a taste while she rubs firm circles against her clit. 

She’s spelling her name against her core when Yaz’s thighs suddenly close around her head and trap her there, so she laps and swathes her tongue along her heat until aftershocks ravage her form. 

“Still got it, baby,” Joni drawls as she settles against her hip, tracing circles against her thigh while she catches her breath. “And you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“ _Thing?_ Ta, Joni,” Yaz huffs, leaning into the palm Joni raises to her cheek. “Still awful with words, I see.”

“You _know_ what I mean, you little —” Joni grumbles, words cantering off into a whine when Yaz presses a kiss to her palm, then takes her pinky finger between her lips. Her cheeks flare with heat and she finds herself unable to look away despite Yaz’s knowing smirk. 

“Shut up and come here,” Yaz purrs, letting Joni’s finger slip free from her lips. When the blonde shuffles up, straddling her hips, she simply raises her brows. “Up a bit more, baby.”

“You mean —?” Joni glances pointedly at her mouth, pupils blown. 

“You might want to get out of those pants,” Yaz quips, wetting her lips with a smug smirk and observing as Joni hastily removes her underwear before sitting up on her knees, which rest either side of Yaz’s head. 

She hovers there for a moment, meeting Yaz’s gaze with a shaky sigh. 

“And you might want to hold onto something,” Yaz whispers, eyeing the headboard with a sinful smile. Before Joni has time to, though, Yaz curls her hands around her thighs and drags her down against her waiting tongue. 

Using her mouth on the other woman is like coming home, and Yaz revels in the frenzied moans she elicits when she slips her tongue past her swollen folds to taste her properly. She’s always been more sensitive than the other woman, so when Yaz noses along her clit so she’s all she can taste and see and smell, Joni’s muscles have already begun fluttering against her. 

“Oh my _God,_ you’re — oh, fuck, right there,” Joni cries, gripping onto the wooden headboard for dear life. She slips a hand from the pine surface to palm at her own chest, thumb brushing and circling a dusky nipple while Yaz sends her towards her release with long, firm strokes and thrusts of her tongue. 

Yaz moans when a fresh wave of arousal coats her tastebuds, nails digging into the pale, supple flesh of her thighs. She slips a hand around to her backside, encouraging her to move against her. 

“You’re so good,” Joni gasps as Yaz brings a hand between them to part her, then draw continuous circles over her clit, short nails gracing the overly sensitive skin there. “God, I’ve missed this.”

The sincerity to her words reassures Yaz she isn’t just rambling because she’s lost in pleasure, as she always does, so she increases her efforts with a hum of approval. Her grip on her thighs and backside tightens, willing her to use her tongue for all it’s worth. 

Joni chases her release with a string of curses, hips beginning to rock fluidly against Yaz’s mouth while both hands relocate with a death grip to the headboard of her bed. The closer she gets, the fewer words she can form, leaving her in a whimpering, breathless state in minutes. “Baby, baby, baby — ba —” 

“I’ve got you,” Yaz moans low in her throat, sucking at pink, swollen flesh until Joni can’t hold still or keep in control any longer, tumbling towards her release with a jumble of choice words and a wavering groan. Yaz is pleasantly reminded that her ex is _loud_ in bed as she licks and sucks her way through it until Joni’s thighs start trembling and she whines, leaning up to escape oversensitive nerve endings receiving any more attention. 

“Holy shit,” Joni sighs as she flops down beside her, grateful for the secure arms which curl around her hips if only so she can stay grounded. She turns her head when she’s got enough energy to do so, nudging her nose along the length of Yaz’s jaw before leaning up to capture her lips in a slow, lazy kiss which sends her stomach into summersaults. 

“Please tell me this means something to you,” Yaz whispers when they pull back, noses aligned and nestled. If it was anyone else, she’d wilt under the constant contact, but with Joni, she wants to be as close as possible. 

“Yaz,” Joni breathes her name like a prayer and Yaz’s heart soars. “This means _everything_ to me.” 

Yaz draws her in for another kiss, this one gleeful and giddy. “Me too.” 

It takes another hour for them to exhaust themselves out enough to give in to slumber, a mess of tangled limbs and dishevelled sheets by the first light of sunrise. 

Buttering a slice of toast the next morning, Yaz melts when slender arms loop lazily around her hips and a very bare form presses flush against her back through her thin, satin dressing gown. “You didn’t wake me up.”

“You looked too peaceful to disturb,” Yaz hums, knife clattering to the countertop when Joni’s lips come to rest against the base of her neck and she sweeps her tongue over the skin there. “ _Joni.”_

“You can’t blame me for wanting to make up for lost time,” Joni hums, moulding her lips against her earlobe next. She slips a hand up to her chest, palming at her breast through the fabric while she waits patiently for Yaz’s controlled facade to fall away. “Come back to bed, baby.”

Yaz sighs against her, arching her chest into her exploring hands. Joni’s free hand curls around the tie holding her dressing gown closed, feeding it back through the loop. She can feel the way she smirks against her skin. “Acting pretty confident for someone who came within three minutes last n— _oh._ ” 

Joni’s teeth close around her earlobe while her fingertips ghost between her legs, catching the other woman off guard and leaving her to grasp at the countertop with a white-knuckle grip. “Please, baby.”

Another hour later and another slice of toast buttered, Joni leans in to take a bite before Yaz can. “Thanks, Yaz.” 

“You’re really annoying, you know that?” Yaz huffs, snatching the bread back with a warning glare. 

“So if I did this —” Joni’s fingers tremble as she unclasps the chain from her neck, slipping the ever-glistening ring loose. “And then this —” She hops from her seat to drop to one knee, fluffy towel tucked under her arms. She raises her hand, reaching for Yaz’s empty palm. “And asked you to marry me, what would you say?”

“I’d say —” Yaz murmurs through brimming tears, “ — you’re stealing my line.” 

“Is that a yes?”

“God, yes,” Yaz chokes out, sweeping from her seat to fall into the blonde’s waiting arms. Her lips are numb by the time she pulls back from their kiss for Joni to slip the ring onto her finger and it’s right in time for her phone to ping with a message from her mother. “Oh shit, she’s going to have a field day with this.”

Joni’s forehead drops to her shoulder with a groan. “You sure I can’t persuade you to run away with me instead?” 

“Sorry, baby."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING

“Rainbow-coloured?  _ Seriously? _ ” Yaz sighs, sweeping a hand over flushed features in playful exasperation. 

She laughs when Joni glances from the toy attached to her hips to Yaz’s expression with lips pursed into an embarrassed pout and a crease between her brows. “I love rainbows.”

“Baby, I don’t mean it.” Yaz reaches out, moulding her palm against her hip while her thighs part pointedly. 

With a huff of laughter, Joni slips a hand between them to flay open slippery heat and nestle comfortably between Yaz’s legs until the toy sinks, inch by inch past welcoming walls. “Can’t see it now. Happy?” 

Yaz keens, head falling back and jaw going slack while her fiancee fills her to the hilt in one smooth movement. The warm lips which brush her throat make her sigh out a breath, and only then can she find it in herself to respond. “Mmhappy.” 

Joni presses smiling lips to Yaz’s and with her fiancee’s guiding hands, she sets up a slow rhythm beneath the sheets of her plush bed. 

It’s been a month and still, Joni feels the need to make up for lost time. They’re like young adults again, sneaking between flats in student residences and spending all night lost in each other. 

“Faster, baby?” Joni purrs against Yaz’s fluttering pulse, mouthing at the skin there before she spells out her name with her tongue. Heat floods to her gut with Yaz’s answering groan and frantic nod. 

Yaz’s hold tightens around Joni’s hips as she picks up her pace, hips swivelling in a way she knows drives her to ecstasy in no time. “ _ Fuck.” _

_ “ _ Good?” Joni drawls, drawing her lips from her neck to observe her features while she works at her like they’re made for each other in every sense. 

“So good, Joni,” Yaz whimpers, lifting a hand to cling to her shoulder and bare short nails to the flesh there. A sheen of sweat has built between them and she momentarily regrets not casting the sheets away by now. When Joni switches her thrusts to aim for a different angle, though, hitting depths Yaz never knew she could, her mind falters before falling blank. “Ohmy _ god.” _

Shudders rolling down her spine, Joni pants against her ear where she nestles, breathless but determined, hips driving forward like a well-oiled machine. 

“Joni — Joni — wait,” Yaz murmurs in a high voice, thighs closing around Joni’s hips to hold back the pleasure threatening to render her limbs jelly and her core pulsing. 

Joni slows in an instant, flushed, sweat-doused features contorted in concern. “Yaz? You okay?” 

Yaz captures her lips to quell her worries, then gently taps her shoulder, her smile dazed and giddy. “Lie down. Let me —” 

“Oh.  _ Oh,”  _ Joni nods, wetting her lips before she draws her hips back and flops ungracefully against the mattress at her side. “You gonna ride me, baby?”

“I know how much you enjoyed this last time,” Yaz drawls flirtatiously as she straddles her thighs, then wastes no time in sinking down around the toy again. “You should be thanking me.”

“Thank you,” Joni purrs, grasping hold of her hips and smirking up at her as she kicks her hips up, coaxing a gasp. “Thank you, baby.” 

“One more,” Yaz murmurs, fingers spread over her midsection as she works up a quickening rhythm. “Say it one more time, Joni.”

“Thank you so much,” Joni whispers breathlessly in response, hips shifting and rolling up as desire shoots to her core. “Christ, Yaz.” She brushes a hand over her face, growing speechless at the sight. 

“I knew I was right,” Yaz sighs, words coming out breathy and high-pitched while she desperately tries to remain in control. She moves a hand to Joni’s chest, clumsily mapping and circling a dusky nipple. “I’m so close.”

When Joni shudders beneath her, the motion reverberates to her very core and makes Yaz cry out, fingers pinching and squeezing. 

“ _ Yaz _ ,” Joni gasps, arching her chest into her rough ministrations. She slips a hand around from Yaz’s hip to her clenching and unclenching stomach, feeling the tension building there before she seeks out her clit and starts rubbing firm circles against her. “Please. I need you to come, baby.”

Yaz jumps at the sudden contact, thighs starting to tremble against her hips while her rhythm turns clumsy and she has to grip at Joni’s shoulder to keep herself grounded. “Joni — oh, fuck, I’m —” 

She comes with a breathless cry, quivering and twitching and mewling through her release while Joni simply gazes on in unbidden wonder. 

Joni holds her through it when Yaz slumps forward, moulding against her as she descends from a blissful high which leaves her limbs tingling. 

Mapping the space just below Joni’s ear with her lips while her breathing slows, Yaz sighs out a pleased little sound which leaves Joni’s cheeks pink. She slips a leg between hers faux-innocently, nudging upwards slightly. “I can feel you against my thigh, baby. You’re so wet. Was that just from watching me?”

Joni swallows, throat bobbing, unable to stop herself canting her hips in a request for more pressure. “Do you even need to ask?”

Yaz hums a laugh, lifting her head to draw her into a kiss while she drops a hand between them to unfasten the toy from her hips, discarding it carelessly so she can sink two fingers inside her with ease. 

Joni groans into her mouth, already coiled and ready to fall apart as soon as Yaz so much as asks her to. Her hips shift, lifting from the mattress to invite her deeper. 

“You’re so —” Yaz sighs, pulling away from the kiss when Joni’s jaw falls too slack to reciprocate. “ _ Good _ , Joni,” she finishes, delighting in Joni’s answering gasp, thighs closing around her working hand. 

Joni squirms, toes curling in satin sheets. When Yaz ducks her head to lave attention to her chest, she keens, soft and whiny and desperate. “Mmf — Yaz _,_ _please_.”

“Please what, baby?” Yaz muffles against her breast, flicking her tongue in quick little motions over the hard bud. “What do you need?” 

“Tell me — tell me I’m good again,” Joni pleads in whispers, already fluttering around Yaz’s hand as she thrusts deep and quick. “Please.”

“Oh? This is a new one.” Yaz giggles slyly, grazing her teeth over her nipple in a way she knows Joni loves. “You’re so good, Joni. So good at taking me; so good at holding on even though I know you’re about to come.” 

Joni sees stars, tensing up around her when the floodgates begin inching open despite her best efforts. She clings to Yaz’s forearm, then drops her hand to Yaz’s dampened own to relocate it to her clit. “Please — I need this. I need you to touch me here. I need —  _ Yaz.”  _ Her words canter off into a string of moans when Yaz obliges, pressing firmly against her clit and sending her into overdrive. 

She comes with a silent shout, pulsing and trembling around her fingers before she curls up into her, clinging at her fiancee’s shoulders to ride out the waves of pleasure rendering her speechless. 

Sated and warm and curled so close they’re more or less one form an unknown length of time later, Yaz is too busy observing Joni’s blissed expression as she cards her fingers through her hair to notice the knock at the door of her flat, then brisk footsteps entering. 

“Yaz? We’re just popping around with some of your dad’s pakora! It’s gone midday, you should be up by now, you lazy —  _ Joni?” _

Najia’s face is the first thing she sees when Joni’s eyes flutter open and she’s suddenly extremely grateful she’d pulled the sheets up over their bare bodies  _ and  _ the discarded toy. They spring apart in an instant with shared surprise. 

Nonetheless, there’s enough skin on show and Najia  _ definitely _ isn’t dumb. She folds her arms from her place in the doorway, eyeing both women as though expecting an imminent response despite their clearly flustered demeanours. 

When Sonya pads in, doing a double-take when she glances up from her phone, Yaz  _ groans. _

“Mum! Oh my  _ God,  _ can you — can you give us a minute, please?” Yaz barks, face burning with embarrassment. When she reaches out to clutch the sheets closer, though, her sister’s gaze catches on the ring hugging her finger and Yaz doesn’t have time to silently communicate a threat to her before she opens her mouth. 

“An engagement ring? Oh,  _ shit.  _ You are in so much trouble, Yaz,” Sonya sing-songs, turning to pad from the room with a shit-eating grin and leave Najia to freeze, mouth falling open.

“We should take the window, babe,” Joni whispers from Yaz’s side, eyes wide, words only half in jest. “The fall would be a hell of a lot less scary than the way your mum is looking at us right now.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! comments and kudos always appreciated!!!


End file.
